© 2011 Josh horse

Listen to the Music

I wrote this two years ago, just dug it out of the hard drive and thought I’d throw it here, an excerpt…

Anna.  She’s twenty two now, and in less than a week she’ll be in a bikini, covered in whipped cream, or cow-shit, or some viscous sugary food product, racing nine other girls to devour animal testicles in order to avoid being eliminated at the end of the shooting day, living in a house with her boyfriend and the boyfriends of the other nine girls, trying to win a few thousand dollars, or a starring role in a b horror film, or love.

She’s crying.  I congratulate her for it.  She tells me about how her boyfriend makes her strip for his friends. My notes say  “Great byte at 4:06”.  She got breast implants to keep him from breaking up with her.  She paid for them with her earnings from the boutique Melrose blvd restaurant she works in three nights a week.  “Fantastic”, I say, “but can you say it again, and remember to incorporate my question in the answer? When we edit this down, we’re not going to include my questions, so your answer has to make sense by itself.”  She’s a good girl, she gets it, she’s a trained actress.

Theres always a moment of pity when I have to tell them not to mention the fact that they’re an actor.  Producers hate hearing that a potential reality star is anything but the perfect trainwreck they appear to be.  The truth is though that Anna never had much chance to be the movie star she imagined she’d be when she was a little girl rehearsing monologues in front of the mirror.  She’s got the wrong combination of traits, the naïve charisma doesn’t mesh with the self-assured after-market confidence that comes with the implants that are far too large for her frame, and the desperate intensity of her nervous green eyes makes her seem smarter than she apparently is.

In short form, she’s the kind of girl you’d fall in love with and grow to resent after a few weeks, she’d cheat on you with some soap opera hopeful gym-rat, and end up burning your guitar on your lawn when you called her out on it.  She’s off-beat enough to make her interesting, but too unstable to take seriously.  She’s perfect, however, for reality television.

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